


Fitting Room Three

by nerdyydragon



Series: Kingsman Tumblr Ficlets [84]
Category: Kingsman (2014), Kingsman (2015), Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Gen, Harry Hart Lives, M/M, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 09:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10510677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyydragon/pseuds/nerdyydragon
Summary: Eggsy would like to believe that he fits rather well within the ranks of Kingsman, if anyone were to ask him. Of course, his still has days where he doubts himself, and has plenty of moments where he thinks he sees the ghost of a dead man. But he can't win it all - can he?





	

**Author's Note:**

> We were throwing around Golden Circle trailer speculation in a group chat and my brain just sort of... birthed this. Take it. The only thing that might make you any happier is if Vaughn GAVE US THE FUCKING TRAILER.

Eggsy let the hot water roll over his shoulders, easing away the deep ache in his muscles as the steam thickened the air around him. Lathering his hair with shampoo, he winced at the strain in his back. The last mission he took in Prague had been far rougher than anyone had anticipated, and he was fairly certain there were at least two bruised ribs. Nothing he couldn’t handle, but it was old habit alone that kept him from going to visit Gaius in medical all the same. Rinsing the last of the shampoo out, Eggsy spun the tap and shut off the water, pulling back the curtain and wrapped a towel around his waist.    
  
Raising a hand to the fogged mirror, Eggsy swiped a hand across it, scowling at his own reflection. His hair had grown out, and even knowing that it allowed him less effort in conforming to what Kingsman considered  _ a perfect gentleman _ , it was still a hurdle he was getting used to, even after nearly two years.   
  
Leaving the bathroom, Eggsy toweled off the rest of his body as he stood in the walk-in closet. After only a moment’s deliberation he pulled his deep navy pinstripe suit from the bar and laid it on his bed, puttering around his room as he collected a shirt, socks, and a pair of briefs from their respective homes. Laying his holsters next to them, Eggsy rolled the pistol magazines open.   
  
“Guess I’ll need to stop at the shop front, then.” He sighed and tossed the gun onto the mattress. Dressing, a plain deep blue tie was thrown around his neck as he padded back into the bathroom, now thankfully dry, and set about finishing up his morning routine. Hair was gelled, ties were knotted, teeth brushed, glasses on, and just a dab of cologne on his wrists under his watch, Eggsy surveyed his reflection again. Better this time, more like the man Harry would have wanted him to be.    
  
Eggsy blinked at the way his chest still ached for Harry - it had been what felt like ages since the man’s death, and at the same time felt like no time at all. There were still times when he fancied hearing the older man’s voice in his ear, providing directions.   
  
He left the little room in a hurry.   
  
Shoulder holsters filled and suit buttoned - now with a classic white ascot - Eggsy took the descending stairs two at a time, nearly tripping over JB nipping at his feet.   
  
“Yes, yes,  _ okay _ . Good morning to you too.” Filling his pug’s bowl with kibble and eyeing the water bowl, Eggsy gave the little dog a scratch before straightening his suit, slipping into his oxfords, grabbing his umbrella, and leaving, locking the door behind him. There was still that ache in his muscles, come back in full force and entirely less than pleasant, now that he was cooled down from his shower. But the way to the shop wasn’t long, and he would decided to chance a walk, perhaps able to stretch them out before confining himself to what was hopefully going to be a short day of locking himself in his office, doing paperwork.   
  
Passing shopfront after shopfront, Eggsy’s gaze oscillated between eyeing himself in the mirrored reflections (he knew he looked well fit in his suit, thank you very much, but every so often he had to remind himself that the reason people were staring at him was because he looked good, not because he was out of place) and trying not to break his neck following every tall bloke with firm shoulders and long legs. Harry was everywhere he went, and Eggsy had resigned himself to the fact that he likely always would be, no matter how long the man was cold in the ground.  _ But he’s not _ , Eggsy reminded himself.  _ There’s nothing in that yard but a tombstone with a civilian’s name on it _ . Harry’s body had never been recovered from Kentucky, but if there was one thing Eggsy always tried to avoid, it was the knowledge that the physical remainder of a man that he loved cared for was lying in an unmarked grave in a foreign country.   
  
It seemed that his walk had taken less time than anticipated; before he knew it Eggsy had arrived at the Kingsman tailor front. Pausing for a moment, shaking himself from his thoughts, Eggsy entered.    
  
There were only a few people in the shop, all of them - unless he had missed something in the week he was away - civilians. Dagonet stopped him before he could open the first fitting room door, his eyes flicking briefly to the young couple comparing tie styles with a consultant before speaking.   
  
“A gentleman is in fitting room one, sir. But fitting rooms two and three are available.” Eggsy suppressed a chuckle.  _ One does not use fitting room two when one is popping one’s cherry _ . The small smile he had been sporting until this point slipped briefly before he forced it back into place. Nodding to the aging tailor, Eggsy turned on his heel and entered fitting room three. Locking it behind him, he pulled down on the hook, watching as the mirror swung open. Passing through the wash station, Eggsy surveyed the supply room before him. There was a man at the other end of the room; his face was away from the door, but Eggsy allowed himself to dream for a moment that it was Harry, come back from the dead. The cut of his shoulders and the set of his (admittedly very long) legs would certainly count as evidence for his daydream.    
  
Shaking his head, Eggsy pulled his empty handgun from his holster and refilled the magazine before replacing it. Twirling his Rainmaker around in his hands, Eggsy was glad that he hadn’t needed it on the way over. He had carried it for appearances sake, but in truth the whole thing was riddled with holes from his mission. Putting it in the section designated for items that needed repair, Eggsy reached out a hand to take the replacement hung on the wall.   
  
“Excellent choice. Rainmakers are rather handy weapons, are they not?” Eggsy froze, not daring to look at the room’s other occupant. It was entirely possible that he had imagined Harry’s voice expressing his admiration of Eggsy’s weapon choice; after all, he had heard the voice in his ear countless times. Closing his eyes, Eggsy let his hand drop to his side, and against his will could feel his nails bite into his palms. Forcing himself to exhale, he listened as footsteps marked the movement of his fellow agent.   
  
“They are. Very reliable in a pinch.”   
  
“Of course. But then, anything could be.”   
  
Uncurling his fingers slowly, Eggsy took in a shaky breath as he opened his eyes. He hoped it wasn’t obvious that he was trembling. Turning, Eggsy came face to face with his own personal ghost, smiling down at him with kind, warm eyes. There were a few new wrinkles around his face, a bit more grey than Eggsy remembered, just around his temples, and silver scarring under the Kingsman-issue glasses up into his hair from his left eye, but it was Harry all the same. Reaching a hand upward, Eggsy grazed his fingertips against Harry’s jaw. He told himself it was to make sure he was real.   
  
“ _ Impossible _ . Harry, you can’t be here. You’re dead.” Harry smiled, wider now, bringing a hand up to lace against Eggsy’s own, which had begun to hover in midair.   
  
“I assure you, Eggsy, that if I wanted so desperately to haunt the shit out of yourself and Archie, I would have done so  _ a long fucking time ago _ .” Laughing to the point of hysteria, Eggsy saw his vision blur as hot tears rolled down his face. He was  _ happy _ , why was he crying? He didn’t know. Pitching forward, Eggsy threw his arms around Harry’s neck, the fabric of the man’s collar getting damp in the process. He felt a hand lace through his hair and one snake around his waist, and Eggsy was glad for it as he felt his knees buckle, whole weight now supported by Harry’s frame.   
  
“ _ Harry _ .”   
  
“I’m here, my  _ dear  _ boy. I’m here.  And I am  _ so very proud of you _ .”


End file.
